Super Sons - The Stories
by JackOwens1860
Summary: DC Rebirth - First foray into bringing Superman and his son into my story collection. Will continue if well received. Jon's POV. Superboy misses his mother and can't sleep. He goes to his dad for comfort and the pair end up spying on Bruce and Damian to see if Batman's son is as much of a lone wolf as he claims to be. Unexpected results occur. Pretty fluffy and aiming for fun.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: First foray into bringing Superman and his son into my story collection. Will continue if well received. Jon's POV. Superboy misses his mother and can't sleep. He goes to his dad for comfort and the pair end up spying on Bruce and Damian to see if Batman's son is as much of a lone wolf as he claims to be. Unexpected results occur.**

 **Pretty fluffy and aiming for fun.**

 **Please read and review.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Super Sons – Fathers**

 **Jon**

I can't sleep. I miss Mom. This is the fourth day she's been in Paris, the _fourth_ day. Reporting shouldn't take this long. I know because in school I was given two days to prepare and deliver an oral report last month. It wasn't great or anything, but I definitely made sure I got it done before the deadline. When Dad and I flew over to Paris again this morning for breakfast with her, she promised she'd be back before I knew it. Well, I _know_ she's still not here and I also _know_ she's not back yet. It isn't fair. Yeah, sure, my dad is Superman and it's great when we fly around and goof off together, but when he's just being my dad at home, he's kind of boring. Mom is the fun one. She's always the fun one. She gives me treasure hunts and makes up crazy games like duck, duck, supervillain, where you have to act like whatever supervillain you're called until someone else is the right superhero to take you down. My dad is...not so imaginative and actually thinks eating Chinese takeout is exotic. That's literally about as exciting as he gets out of his cape.

It gets to eleven, two _hours_ after my bedtime, and I'm still wide-awake. I decide I don't like it and go to my parents' room. Dad always goes to bed at half-ten. According to Mom, he's been doing it since he was thirteen. And he snores. Apparently, he's always done that too. So, I only knock because I wasn't 'raised in a barn'. I was raised in the house next to it instead. When I open the door, I know he'll still be asleep. In the dark, all I can see is a big old shadow in the bed and hear a noise that sounds like our old truck did when the weather was cold, except louder. I don't get how he doesn't miss her as much as I do. Didn't he marry her because he loved her so much to begin with? He shouldn't be sleeping. It's not fair.

Mom says sometimes he sleeps so soundly she has to slap him a few times to get a response. I don't think I could get away with that. I might actually hurt him. So, I pick up the bottom of the bedframe, lift it six inches off the floor, and then let it drop down. Dad snaps awake and instantly turns the bedside light on. He literally only looks startled for a second. Then he sees me and goes totally limp again.

"Hey, Jonno. What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep."

"Miss Mom, huh?" I just nod my head and he waves me towards him. I go without even thinking about it. My Dad loves me. He may be boring without the tights, but he loves me. I get onto the mattress, crawl across the sheets and then settle into his lap for what's always the best hug in the known universe. He closes his arms around me and squeezes softly in a way that always makes me go completely limp. I hear him sigh. "I miss her too. But we'll go back over tomorrow and see her before school starts, okay? I promise."

My dad always keeps his promises. As soon as he says 'I promise' to me, about anything, I always feel better. I definitely feel better right now. I nod. "Okay. Can I stay with you for a little while, please?" I ask, even though I've never heard him say 'no' to this. He kisses me on the scalp.

"Alright, but just for a little while. You've got your own room for a reason, Jon. And it isn't so you can throw your laundry all over the floor."

"I know, Dad."

He turns out the light and I shift under the bedsheets and onto my side so he can cross his arms over my chest and hug me against his body. I don't know why this feels so much nicer than when Mom does it. I think maybe it's because with Dad I can sort of angle my head and then use his huge bicep as a pillow without ever making his arm go numb. Mom always complains I'm cutting off her circulation. She likes face-to-face hugging instead of back-to-front when she hugs me in bed. Don't get me wrong, it's just as great, but I like the lack of eye contact with Dad. He doesn't expect me to look all grateful every second he's cuddling me. Mom does. I don't think she means it, but sometimes it makes me nervous. Dad never makes me nervous, even when we're fighting crime in Metropolis.

"You still awake, buddy?" He asks me after something like twenty minutes has gone by.

"Yeah. Can't I just fly over and stay in the hotel with her?"

"You can, but that isn't going to help you solve your problems. Mom is going to have to leave quite a lot and it's better you get used to it now. If you do, when you're older and she has to leave on assignment again, you won't miss her as much."

Dad's right. He's not always right. According to Mom, mostly he's wrong. But this time he's totally right. I should be tougher than this, like Damian must be with his dad. He once told me Batman disappeared for a month without telling anyone where he was going or why. Damian said he slept like a baby every night and didn't miss his dad at all. Sometimes I think he's full of bull-plop. His dad is Batman. How can you not miss Batman? Even my dad misses Batman when he's away.

"Am I a baby for doing this, Dad?" I ask him with a sigh. I hear him chuckle.

"You're not a baby, kiddo. You just miss your mom. All boys miss their mothers when they go away for a while."

"I bet Damian doesn't." I say with enough bitterness to leave a sour taste in my mouth. Mom would tell me to 'cut the sass' if I spoke to her like that. Dad just ruffles my hair, which I like better.

"Damian's mom is...not the nicest of ladies. With some of the things Bruce says she's done to the kid, I wouldn't be surprised if he missed his colds more than his mom. But he's a special case – an exception, not the rule." Dad tells me.

"Do you think he cuddles his dad like this? I asked him once and he just laughed in my face, called me 'pathetic'." I say, remembering that conversation too clearly for my liking. I went about as red as my cape after he laughed me out of the cave.

"Despite all the bluster that boy puts on, Son, he loves his dad just as much as anyone else. I am one-hundred percent certain he likes to cuddle Bruce like this behind closed doors." My dad assures me, but I'm still unconvinced. Sometimes he likes to imagine the best of people, even if it's way too syrupy to be true.

"I don't know. Can we go see if it's true?"

"I don't think either of them will appreciate having their privacy invaded. We wouldn't like it if it were them spying on us." He says, but I know he's already considering it. He's stopped combing through my hair, which means he's not thinking about me anymore. He's starting to wonder if it's true as well. I decide to push him a little bit.

"They've already done that a bunch of times. We can do it once and still be the good guys in this. Aren't you even a little bit curious?"

"Don't try to cajole me like that, Jon. I hate being cajoled, especially by my own son."

Okay. Not sure about any of that. I call it Reporter Speak. Sometimes Mom speaks what sounds like gibberish too. "I don't know what 'cajole' means. Is it English?"

"Of course, it is. It means to tempt someone into doing something by repeated asking. It could very well describe you in a nutshell." Dad says before starting to ruffle my hair again. Looks like I've lost this one. I sigh.

"Are you saying I'm annoying?"

"I guess I am."

I smirk. "Am I _super_ -annoying?"

He groans. "Believe me, with your mom, the last thing you ever want to be is _super_ annoying. Regular annoying is just fine." He says with a chuckle that somehow turns into a lethargic sigh before it's over. "Okay. We'll go over and look for a little while. But we're not staying long, okay?"

Yay! I'd do my victory dance, but I'm pretty sure Dad would video it for Mom to fire out on Twitter and Instagram. She's still got that one of me dancing butt-naked as a toddler on her page, even though I beg her at least twice-a-day to take it down. Aren't two million views enough? And she imported it from her Facebook specially to share it with her followers. All five-hundred _thousand_ of them. So, no victory dance tonight.

It takes me two minutes to get out of my jammies and into my outfit. Dad takes half-as-long to pull on his whole spandex suit, boots, belt and cape. Sometimes I think he just likes showing off how fast he is. Either way, after checking the front door's locked, _twice_ , we fly off the balcony and have a little race to Gotham. I say little because, one it takes about five minutes, and two, my dad always wins. When I'm older, I know I'll whip him. I just have to wait. Damian says the same thing. I just don't know whether he's right – his dad is way more into fitness and junk than mine.

Anyway, we get to Wayne Manor and then back-off until we're hovering outside the front gates.

"Let's be discreet, huh, Buddy? Bruce has the best security in the world. This way, you can practice long-distance X-ray and hearing simultaneously." Dad says. I get it. He doesn't want to give Batman a reason to be steamed with us. Invading his privacy to see whether Damian gets cuddles would definitely be a reason not to speak to us. I nod my head.

"Okay. Let's do it."

It takes a while to scan the whole house and find them, but eventually both of us find them in Bruce Wayne's bedroom. I literally can't believe it, even though it's staring me in the face. Damian, the big, tough lone wolf of Gotham City and enemy of human feelings, is snuggled in the hollow of his dad's body, buried up to the waist in bedsheets, being read POETRY. And he looks like he's enjoying it. I prick up my ears to listen.

"An endless fountain of immortal drink, pouring unto us from heaven's brink." I hear Bruce say like he's just finished reading aloud. As soon as he stops talking, Damian scoffs.

"And Keats wrote four books of this dreck, you say? Father, don't you think Alfred's lessons on poetry are enough? If I am forced to sit through four books of Endymion's life history as told by this loathsome bore, I doubt I will last past tonight's rendition." Yep, that's Damian, alright. As charming in private as he is in public too. I watch Bruce just smile and ruffle his hair in reaction, instead of just punching him square in the face.

"It was only an option, Son. Although he is one of the greatest English Romantic poets of the nineteenth century, I do not much care for his work either. Who did you prefer this evening?"

"Coleridge, Father. Kubla Khan was not entirely awful."

I turn to my dad. "What are they talking about? What's Kubla Khan, Dad?"

"It's a poem by an Englishman called Samuel Taylor Coleridge. It's about the Chinese Emperor in his summer palace in Xanadu."

"And how do you know that?"

"I wrote a book report on it once. Sixth grade, I think. I enjoyed it very much."

"Damian's such a liar. He said he never read poetry because it was for girls."

"Well, technically he isn't reading it, Jonno, he's _hearing_ it. Anyway, that's enough proof for tonight, don't you think?"

"No way! I want to see what else he's been lying about."

"Son, any longer and we run the risk of being detected and shamed for eavesdropping. One thing Superman has never enjoyed is being chastised by Batman for being a nosey-parker."

"Chastised? Dad, can you just stick to fifth-grade reading material? And never refer to yourself in the third-person ever again? It makes you sound all big-headed."

Dad clears his throat and nods in agreement. "Very well. How about we listen for two more minutes and then go home. Sound okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah, totally!" I say before tuning back into the Batman and Robin After-Hours Special. This is already way better than cable. Bruce's put the book down and looks unhappy now. Damian is slumped back against his chest, but also looks weirdly ticked-off about something. Did they have a fight in the fifteen seconds I wasn't watching? I concentrate to make sure I hear exactly what they're saying.

"Why do you suppose he keeps violating our privacy, Father?" Damian asks. Wait, what?

Bruce sighs. "I don't know. Parenting tips, perhaps?"

"Tsk. He'd have more difficulty raising a sheep than that boy of his, Father. Jonathan Kent is tame enough to eat out of your hand if you coax him with enough lies." Oh, _heck_ no. He did NOT just throw shade at me. Not again!

"I cannot fathom another legitimate reason for his repeated intrusions. Clark, if you're listening to me and value your integrity and honour as a man, kindly meet us at the front door in thirty seconds." Bruce says in a voice that's somehow angry and calm at the same time.

I frown and look over at Dad again. He looks totally embarrassed. I kind of think he should be. "You don't, do you, Dad? You don't look for parenting tips from Batman, right?"

He shrugs his shoulders and grins sheepishly. "I...I just sometimes appreciate a steer, that's all. Bruce has raised four boys, all of them about as unusual and special as you. There isn't really anyone else I can look to for advice."

"Are we...are we going to the front door like he asked, Dad?"

"It's only right, Son. We're honourable men, aren't we?"

"Well, I'm a boy, but sure we are."

We glide over to the door and Dad knocks on it twice. Bruce opens it and looks unimpressed. Damian's stood right next to him with his arms folded, also looking super unimpressed with us.

"You're lucky we don't have dogs to set on you." Damian mutters before sneering at me. "Shouldn't you be asleep in bed, Kent? A little boy like you needs all the sleep he can get."

"Hey, shut up! You were being cuddled by your dad and being read poetry!" I snap back, trying to forget that both our dads are looking at us.

"So, you've become a peeping Tom have you, Kent? I should've known you were overly infatuated with me from the beginning. I'm sorry to ruin all your dreams of marriage, but I am not interested in guys, especially ones that look as ugly as..." Damian stops speaking when his dad raps him on the back of the head.

"Have some decorum. His father is stood right there. I have no desire to instigate a war of attrition with Superman because you have no filter. Understand?" Bruce says with only the slightest bit of sharpness in his voice. It's weird to hear him speak so much without the growl. He sounds almost normal.

Damian doesn't even roll his eyes. He just nods and for once answers a question without any attitude whatsoever. "Yes, Father."

"We didn't mean anything by it, Bruce. Jon misses his mom and I just wanted to cheer him up. I didn't know this, but what makes my boy smile more than anything is to see your son act like a human being instead of a superhero." My dad explains with all his trademark honesty even though he doesn't need to lay it on so thick and goopy.

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Really?" He doesn't sound all that surprised. He looks down at Damian. "Have you been telling tall and very fantastical tales about yourself again, Son?"

"Not really. I merely stated..."

"He said he only sleeps once every four days and that he once wrestled a bear into submission using only his pinkie fingers!" I say before Damian can try to talk his way out of trouble. I realise I'm pointing a second later and will my arm back to my side. I don't want to look like a total snitch, but he makes me so mad sometimes I can't help myself. I always feel on defence when he's around.

"Damian is thirteen, not a robot or cyborg. You seem like a bright enough boy to know that, Jon." Bruce says without any of the sarcasm his son would add to something like that. I nod my head frantically.

"I do, but he just keeps going anyway!"

"Do you tattle on everybody you meet, Kent? I told you that in confidence."

"You told me that to make me feel like a baby! 'I don't get cuddled by my father, I do not need love and affection to know my worth'. That's what you said!" I yell. I feel my dad's hand settle on my shoulder a second later and know I'm making too much noise. I know without looking at him that he wants me to apologise before I make things worse. I look at Bruce. "I'm sorry, Mr Wayne. I'm acting stupid and I really shouldn't be hollering when it's nearly midnight."

"Call me Bruce. Come in, the both of you."

Alfred's long gone to bed, but Bruce fixes us some hot chocolate anyway and then sits us down in the living room. Neither he or Damian have hot chocolate – both of them have water – but he offers around miniature marshmallows too.

"We can trade if you like, Clark." Bruce says gesturing to both Damian and me. I know he's joking, I really don't know how that would work out. I think Damian would drive my dad nuts inside of three days, and I'd be too scared to come out from under the bed. My dad laughs it away, like he does most things people say to him.

"I don't think Lois would approve. How did you know we were spying on you?"

"That's my secret, Clark. We have to keep some for ourselves, don't we?" Bruce says with a smile I can barely make out. He looks at me as I sit cross-legged on the couch next to my Dad. I took my sneakers off because everything here looks expensive and I don't. "Do you not like poetry, Jon?" He asks to put me on the spot.

"I haven't heard much before...Bruce. I... liked the sound of Kubla Khan though. That sounded interesting."

"I could loan your father a copy if you like. Reading it might encourage better sleep." Bruce suggests. I think it's worth a try. If Batman thinks so, it must be. I nod my head.

"I'd like that very much."

"As luck would have it, I brought the Coleridge book downstairs with me." Bruce says revealing the book from behind his back. "Perhaps even more incredulous, is that Damian is very keen to demonstrate his oratory abilities to us all before you leave for the evening." I watch him smack the book into Damian's chest with a smile I can't hide. I almost burst out laughing at the horror on his face when he realises what's about to happen.

"Father, I can't..."

"Oh, yes, you can, Son. Stand up and recite the first two stanzas of Kubla Khan for our guests."

"No, Father, I mean, I really..."

"Please recite the stanzas or suffer the consequences – no patrol duties for a fortnight." Bruce holds up two fingers. "Just the two, Damian. Off you go."

I lean forward in my seat as Damian pulls himself up, opens the book and gives me the most evil-eye I've ever seen before starting to read aloud. I glance behind him and see Bruce wink at me. I grin back in appreciation of what we both see as revenge for rude behaviour. I soon get disappointed though. Even though he looks really uncomfortable, it turns out Damian Wayne is really good at reciting poetry too. As soon as he finishes, I offer a round of sarcastic applause.

"I don't know why you're clapping, Jon. The performance isn't over yet." Dad says before motioning for Damian to hand him the book. As soon as he does, he drops it in my lap. "Now it's your turn. The last stanza. Off you go."

 _What_? What did I do? "Aw, but _Dad_...he was the one being mean."

"And you were the one getting upset and shouting in the middle of the night. We can't expect Damian to take all the blame for your combined rude behaviour. Up now and recite." He says pushing me off the couch cushion and onto my feet as Damian sits back down and smirks at me. I open to the right page and almost freeze up. I turn back to my dad.

"Bruce doesn't want to hear me stuff-up this poem, Dad." I say.

"You won't 'stuff-it-up', Jon. Not in front of me." Bruce says in his Batman voice to _really_ calm me down. Not. Dad doesn't come to my rescue like he would anybody else trapped in such a dire situation. He just gestures towards my 'audience' and folds his arms. I slowly turn back and face them both.

"Try not to wet your pants during the performance, Kent. Father is a harsh critic." Damian says. I scowl at him, then the page. This is so stupid. I hate public speaking and Dad knows it. But I guess if I want to be a hero like him, I could use the practice. I clear my throat...a lot and then begin.

"The shadow...of...the...dome of...pleasure, floated midway on the... waves..."

I get through it somehow and then get heckled by Damian after I'm finished. "Go back to school, Kent! You don't belong on stage here!"

"I thought you did very well, considering the circumstances, Jon. In any case, you were no worse than Damian when he was your age, better even since you did not have to be prodded." Bruce says to totally suck all the air out of Damian in one awesome put-down. Both this and his praise make me feel good. I smile and bow, a little embarrassed by Batman giving me the thumbs-up.

"Thank you, Bruce. Hey Dad, can we go now? I'd really like to go to bed now." I say looking back at him. He grins.

"Are you sure you don't want to recite another one, Jonno?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." I say, already shoving my shoes back on. Dad shrugs and gets to his feet.

"Alright then. What do you say to Bruce?"

"Thank you for the hot chocolate and book, Bruce."

Bruce smiles at me. "You're welcome here anytime Jon. Just use the front door next time, instead of eavesdropping. Tell your father the same."

"I'm right here, Bruce." Dad says only to get blanked by Bruce anyway.

"I know. Tell him anyway, Jon. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Bruce. Goodnight, Damian."

"Try not to hurry back too soon, Kent. At least give me time to savour the stupefied look on your face when you were asked to read before showing me it again."

"Yeah? Well enjoy cuddling your dad, Mr Lone Wolf. I'll see you around."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Second instalment being published because of popularity. Damian is injured. Jon visits him but is turned away early when the younger Wayne decides he wants to sleep. Jon goes to Bruce to see if he can help him with anything. They go on patrol. Things happen. Evaluations are made, and opinions are formed.**

 **Good for a laugh**

 **Jon's POV.**

 **Please read and review.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Super Sons – Temping**

 **Jon**

So, Damian's sick. Well, not sick-sick, just like injured sick. Dad just said he took on too many thugs at once and took his lumps. He said I should go visit him after school and try to cheer him up. Since I already know nothing I say will make him feel better, I really wanted to say 'no' so I could play Monk-E-Monsters till bedtime. Then Mom guilt-tripped me into going. I still don't know how. But I went. We played Mortal Kombat in his room, but I couldn't sit on his bed. He made me sit on the floor and play. Then, after like an hour, he said he was tired and was going to sleep.

I was totally going to fly off home until Alfred suggested that Bruce might have stuff for me to do. When I asked if Damian would get mad at me for hanging out with his dad behind his back, Alfred said 'yes'. It made it way easier to waltz down to that grandfather clock in the library. But now I'm stuck on how to open it. I know it's something to do with the hands, but I've tried every time I can think of. So, I decide to try using a little super-strength to pull it open but end up yanking it halfway off the hinges. It doesn't look too secret anymore. I'm in the middle of trying to fix it when Bruce comes out the cave and catches me red-handed.

"I'm so, so sorry, Mr Wayne! I honestly didn't mean to bust your secret entrance, but it just wouldn't open and I tried every combination to open it..."

"It is a clock, Jon, not a safe. That means you should treat it with even greater delicacy. It's a Wayne family heirloom." He says before motioning for me to put it down on the floor again. I put it down as softly as I can. I think I'm in big trouble until he pats me on the shoulder and smiles. "You must have needed to see me urgently to break the furniture."

"I'll pay for it! I only have like nine dollars in my piggy bank, but I could always pay you back with my allowance for the next million years, if you want." I say, still panicking over how stupid I've been in the last two minutes. He runs a hand over the sides of the clock.

"You haven't damaged the clock, Jon. Only the hinges. They are easily replaced. Do not worry yourself." He says, still smiling. "What did you want to see me about? Is Damian being unkind?"

"He's asleep. I was going to leave, but Alfred said maybe you might have something for me to do?"

He shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets. "I don't want to keep you unnecessarily, Jon. I am sure your parents would prefer you home sooner rather than later."

"Actually, they're having date-night, so, they said if I could stay over here, they'd appreciate it. I think they want to...do grown-up stuff, without me listening." I tell him to get a single raised eyebrow. Even that gesture looks totally bad-a... looks cool.

"I see. Well, you're welcome to stay the night, Jon, but I'm not certain what you could do for the remainder of the evening..."

"Are you patrolling tonight?" I interrupt, really hoping I'm not pushing my luck after the whole breaking his family heirloom thing.

"I am, but, I don't think you'd particularly enjoy my brand of crime-fighting. It tends to be...quite cerebral. More tactics and planning than the out-and-out action you are perhaps used to with my son."

"I wouldn't mind not having to run for my life every five seconds. Besides, Damian's always bragging how much better you are than my dad. To be honest, Dad says you're awesome too. Both of them say I could learn a lot from you about fighting crime. And, it's not like it's a big risk taking me. I'm invulnerable to bullets and fire and poison gas and big, fiery explosions..." I realise I'm yammering when he holds up a hand to stop me. I shut up, straight away.

"It was never a question of not taking you, Jon. I just did not want you to become bored. From what your father tells me, you are a reliable ally in field conditions." Bruce replies to boost my confident a billion percent.

"Dad said that about me?"

"Yes, he did. For what it's worth, I value his judgement. There may be a certain degree of bias in his statement, but I have seen video footage of you in action that wholly supports his opinion. If you are happy to follow my lead, and obey all my rules, you are welcome to come along. Shall I meet you in the city?" He asks.

I shake my head empathetically on that. "No way! I want to sit in the car! Damian makes it out to be so cool. I can fly any old time."

He smirks, but without any of his son's trademark meanness. "Well then, we can leave as soon as this door is fixed."

Even though I'm the one with super-speed, Bruce fixes the hinges in half-the-time I thought it would take an ordinary human being. Then, in the cave, I don't even have the time to do a three-sixty before he's suited up and walking towards the car. I nearly trip over my own feet trying to keep up with him. Oh man, once we're in the car though...so amazingly cool. There's like a hundred different buttons on the dashboard that are lit up like a Christmas tree or Fourth of July celebration, I can't decide which. I watch him press four of them before he turns on the ignition and steps on the gas. We literally fly forward.

"Would you like to listen to tonight's itinerary, Superboy?" He asks when we're five minutes from the cave. I don't even know how fast we're going now. The stuff outside the window is getting super blurry. I nod my head.

"Yes, please, Batman."

"Robin and I typically patrol for four to six hours, depending on threat-level. We always start in Park Row, where Crime Alley is situated, and patrol outwards in an arc that sweeps from left to right. Criminal activity is always worst in an area of the city called the Narrows. The majority of our work will be carried out there. I will always lead and you will be the rear-guard. We work as a team, not as individuals. My only advice for you is to limit your power when hitting your opponents. With very few exceptions, the majority of combatants we will face are human and unpowered. If they are not, I will make you aware. Understand?" He checks as the police scanner he has on starts going crazy.

I nod again. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. We will arrive in three minutes. Get your game-face on."

As soon as we stop, he gets out and grapples up the side of the nearest building inside of three seconds. I'm still unbuckling my seatbelt. When I fly up and join him, he points out another building in the distance.

"Police indicate a riot is in progress in the vicinity of that building. The hostiles number twenty. Patrol cars have been dispatched but are now being overrun. We need to quell the riot and ensure the officers do not come to harm. Understand?"

"Yeah. Let's go kick some butt!"

He almost glides through the air better than I do as we close on the building he pointed out. I mean, Damian is good through the air too, but he must weigh like a buck-thirty if that. Batman easily weighs more than two-hundred, but he moves just as well. It's awesome to see him in action like this. I'm kind of tingly about it all. I'm patrolling with Batman. THE Batman. Damian said I wasn't good enough to patrol with his dad, but here I am.

"You sweep the outside combatants. I will handle the centre. Try not to harm them too much." He says a second before releasing his line and dropping like a stone towards the middle of the riot where at least ten people have rolled a police cruiser and trying to set it on fire. I watch him land feet first on top of the car and then trigger some enormous electrical pulse that knocks all of them down. I have to admit, Batman makes crime-fighting look a lot more interesting than my dad. I stop looking at the show he's putting on and concentrate on being a good ally in the field.

I decide to just fly in a circle and sweep their legs out from under them a dozen times until they all get too dizzy to stand up. Once they're down, I ball my hand and tap them gently on the chin to knock them out cold. I turn around to help Batman, but find he's already handcuffed his guys and is now helping the police officers climb out of their overturned car. Both of the police give me a funny look when I glide over, like they've never seen a kid fly before. Haven't they had like four or five Robins here?

"This is Superboy. He's temping for Robin at present." Batman explains before looking at the overturned car. "He's very useful." He adds before gesturing towards the cruiser. I get it. I grin and nod before crouching down and flipping the car back onto its wheels. Now they look both impressed and terrified at the same time. Definitely not what I was aiming for. Bruce pats me on the back in appreciation anyway. "I'm calling for additional units and an ambulance. Good work, partner."

Partner! Batman called me his partner! I really want to do my victory dance, but I don't think this is the right place. Not with the police right in front of me. They both still look scared. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the taffy I was going to share with Damian, before he totally lost sharing rights. I put on my best smile and stoop over with my gift. "Would you guys like some taffy?"

Three hours go by really quick. We stop muggings, and murders, and a couple of crimes I've never seen in Metropolis, like illegal animal trafficking and a counterfeiting ring. It's all serious stuff, but kind of fun at the same time. Plus, I get to see Batman kick so much more butt than he made out he was going to. For a guy without superpowers, he is amazing to watch up-close. He almost seems to predict what his opponents are going to do next and then counters it before they realise how much trouble they're in. Dad once joked Batman fights crime by getting punched in the head twenty-eight times a night, but he's tackled fifty guys and not been hit once. Not once. Near misses, sure, but actually getting tagged? Not even a single for the bad guys – all strikeouts.

Just before he calls it quits, we get a situation only someone immune to being burned alive is qualified to handle. An apartment block is on fire, from top to bottom. Firefighters are already trying to put it out with the combined effort of four trucks. Meanwhile, people in the higher floors are screaming and trapped. Smoke is everywhere, meaning even a guy like Bruce wound struggle to breathe inside. But Dad and I have handled these a bunch of times back home, so I know exactly what to do.

"It's cool if I go and super-breath this thing away, right, Batman?" I ask as we stand on the roof opposite the inferno. He nods.

"As long as you are sure, please go ahead."

I fly over, fill my lungs and blow as hard as I can. I put out _some_ of the fire, which is not good. Because then _all_ of the fire roars back into life. I guess I still need more practice at that. No biggie. I can still save everybody. I zip in and out of the building three-dozen times and get all of them to safety on the sidewalk. Easy as pie. I'm about to wave to the survivors from high in the air when one of them calls out something weird.

"Hey kid, does Superman know you fly around in your birthday suit?"

What is he talking about? I'm not naked...then I remember. Mom put my fire-proof costume in the wash last night. What I'm wearing now...isn't fire-proof, it's just cotton and denim. Or...it was. I glance down and find all my clothes have burnt away to nothing. I'm literally nude in front of the whole world. It's like my worst nightmare come to life. I instantly cover my crotch and turn a million shades of red in flying back to the rooftop where Bruce is still stood. I land in front of him and want to cry. I'm butt-naked in front of the Batman while people in the background are laughing hard enough to drown out the flames of a burning building.

"No fire-proof clothing tonight?" He asks.

I can't look him in the eye as I mumble my answer. "No. Mom put it in the wash."

"I see. Never mind." He says gesturing for me to come forwards. I shuffle towards him with my head hung in shame. Stupid, stupid Jon. I should've known after the first couple of trips that things were burning. Damian will never let me live this down. He'll tease me about this when we're old and then even remind me of it on his death-bed. Now, Batman going to have to carry me off the roof like a baby and I'm going to have to sit in the car in his cape, like a stupid, little kid who wet himself and didn't have any spare clothes to wear.

"Please don't put your hands on my butt when you're carrying me." I say only for him to smile.

"I am not carrying you anywhere..." He says before producing jeans, sneakers and another Superman hoodie and cape for me to wear from under his own cape. "I took the liberty of packing a spare uniform for you, in the event you were somehow involved in fiery escapades."

"Where did you get a spare uniform?"

"I bought them for Damian. He did not receive them in good spirits."

"I bet he didn't." I want to say more but then we both notice the news helicopter circling overhead. I really don't want my Mom to see me flash my butt on live TV. Lucky for me, Bruce thinks faster than I do and has already bundled me through a door and into an empty stairwell, sparing my blushes and going viral on YouTube. He hands me the clothes.

"Get dressed."

I swallow hard. "Can you, can you turn around please? I don't want you to look."

"I had no intention of doing so." He says, already with his back to me, guarding the door. I get dressed quicker than I ever have in my entire life. It feels kind of weird, not wearing underwear or socks, but at least I can fly out of here without having my junk make headline news. "Are you decent?" He asks me.

"Yeah, thanks for looking out for me, Bru- I mean Batman." I correct myself. Damian gets on my case all the time for not using codenames. I don't think his dad is anywhere near as bad for it, but I still need to practice.

"It's alright, Jon. We're alone. Before we go back to the car, I just want to say I have been thoroughly impressed with your conduct and bearing tonight. Your parents have every right to feel proud of you."

"Really? Damian said I wasn't ready for the Teen Titans, said I was too green for them."

"My son says many things that he shouldn't. Just remember that you have _my_ approval to join me anytime."

"Thank you, Bruce. My mom's gonna kill me when hundreds of people post pictures of Superboy's butt online. I said I wasn't going to do anything stupid tonight."

"No-one will post any images of your posterior. I activated an electro-magnetic pulse as soon as you entered the building. It scrambles all electronic devices within a four-block radius for as long as the pulse is active. Rest assured, nobody got anything more than an eyeful this evening. As for any backlash from your mother, I will attend to it." He tells me finally turning back around. He's smiling. "I'm pleased to see that your sense of duty outweighs your sense of modesty where lives are concerned. It is an attitude that does you credit."

I scratch the back of my head, feeling weirdly proud of myself. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I thought I was flying fast enough to avoid torching my clothes. I didn't mean to embarrass you like that."

"That is not the worst thing that could have happened in the circumstances. You could have been naked and _not_ managed to save everyone in the building. Never dwell on the negatives of a successful rescue operation, Jon. It only dulls your accomplishments. Next time though, please ensure you wear the flame-retardant variant of your uniform."

"Yes, Sir."

I honestly thought that patrolling with Batman would be tougher than that. I expected him to be all grim and cruel, like Damian keeps making him out to be. I definitely didn't picture him like this, all encouraging and nice. Don't get me wrong, as far as actually fighting crime goes, the man is just as brutal and hard as Damian says he is. But in terms of being a mentor? Super, super chilled. And him packing a spare uniform for me in case I did something dumb? A total Dad move. A really, really good one. When we get back to the cave, Alfred offers me a choice of a bath or shower. I go for the shower, because I know I'm too dirty for a bathtub with all the ash and soot caking my body. It would only leave a humongous mess for him to clean up. My mom says to be a good guest, you should make as little mess for them as possible whenever you can.

Once, I'm showered and in some loaned jammies, I check in on Damian. He's still asleep and actually looks relaxed for once, instead of sporting what I like to call his 'constipated face'. Alfred has made-up a bed in one of the guest rooms for me to crash in. He asks me if I need anything, but I say I'm fine. Half-an-hour later, I'm still awake. It sounds stupid, given I grew up on a farm, but it's too quiet. I'm used to city noise now; all the traffic and people help send me to sleep. All there is here is deathly silence. I get out of bed and pad downstairs. Bruce is in the library where the grandfather clock says it's almost midnight.

He's wearing a really nice-looking dressing gown and holding a copy of Alice in Wonderland as he sits in a fancy armchair by the doorway. I clear my throat to tell him I'm here. He looks up from his book and smiles at me.

"Hello, Jon. Is everything alright?"

"I'm having a little trouble sleeping."

"Is it the bed?"

"No, nothing like that. I'm just not all that sleepy I guess. Mind if I hang out with you for a while?"

"I suppose not. Just do not tell your parents I allowed to stay up past midnight. Would you like a book to read?" He asks gesturing for me to park my butt on the footstool nearby. I take a quick glance around a room that must have over ten-thousand books in it and shake my head before

sitting down.

"No thank you. I wouldn't know where to start anyway. Have you read all these books?"

"No, but I have read a large cross-section of them over the years. Many of them belonged to my parents. I have discovered we share little in common where literary tastes are concerned." He says. He talks like Damian, all pretty and polished, but without sounding pretentious. Mom taught me that word. I asked her if she could describe Damian in one word, what would it be? She said pretentious. Bruce is anything but pretentious. I point to his book.

"Is Alice in Wonderland one of your books then?"

"No. This copy was my mother's. She enjoyed reading it to me when I was young. Rainy days mostly if I recall."

"My mom likes it too. She's read it to me a bunch of times now. I always like hearing her read it. She does the voices and everything."

He grins at me, and not in a creepy way either. And Damian said his dad didn't know how to smile. What a liar. "Does she? My mother did voices too." He says.

I smile back. "Yeah? Do you ever read it to Damian?"

"Not Damian, no. I have however read it to his brothers. Dick and Tim were fond of the story, as was Jason."

"Did you do voices?"

"Of course."

"My dad doesn't do the voices when he reads it. He gets too embarrassed, I think. He's convinced he's a bad storyteller."

Bruce frowns at me. "He's a reporter."

"I know, that's what I said, but he still won't do them. It ruins it a little for me." I say. I don't like badmouthing my dad on anything, because he's Superman, and you really shouldn't badmouth Superman. But he sucks at storytelling. It's probably the worst thing he does.

Bruce chuckles ever so slightly. I think he likes me. He must like me. What he says next confirms it. "I'm sorry to hear you're been deprived, Jon. If you like, perhaps I might read a little for your enjoyment?"

"That would be great! Yes, please." I shout, unable to stop myself getting bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about the prospect of Batman reading to me. I decide the best position to listen is stretched out on the floor with a pillow behind my head. Once I'm comfy and have my eyes closed, I give him the signal to start.

"Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do..."

I hear him do the voices of Alice, the White Rabbit, all the animals from the Pool of Tears, Bill, the footmen, the Duchess and the Cheshire Cat. I think I dozed off just before he got going on the Mad Tea Party, because the next thing I know, I'm being carried upstairs to my room.

"Sorry...it was really good..." I mutter to him as he puts me down on the bed and pulls the covers up to my shoulder.

"I'm pleased you enjoyed it. Goodnight, Jon. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Batman."

I get woken up by someone repeatedly poking me in the face. When I open my eyes, I find Damian hunched over me, looking less miserable than yesterday. He might even be in a good mood if that's a smile and not a grimace on his face.

"So, you were stark naked in front of a crowd that numbered just over a hundred last night?" He asks. I roll my eyes. Oh, great. It begins early around here.

"Yeah, laugh it up. I was too busy saving lives to notice until it was over. So, go ahead, call me an idiot or an imbecile or whatever word you've chosen for today's teasing." I sigh, folding my arms without trying to sit up. He invites himself to sit on the bed before holding his ribs. Guess they're still sore.

"I thought about it, very hard. My father told me what happened and left it up to me to decide how to proceed with such information. It is a test of my character, I think, one with no right answer. I believe he expects me to attack and chastise you for your stupidity in not wearing the correct clothing. But I won't. I'm actually strangely proud of you, J. My father has only two grades for street-level performance – admirable and adequate. He labelled your efforts as admirable, despite your novice status. It would appear my training is paying off." He says to show he hasn't exactly become a new guy overnight.

I roll my eyes. "I wouldn't say your dad taking a shine to me was all down to your 'training', but thanks. I know saying anything nice about me is hard for you."

"What did you think of working with my father?"

"He's pretty cool. The car was _super_ cool. Almost everything you and Dad said about him are true."

Damian raises an eyebrow, just like his dad. " _Almost_ everything?"

I almost laugh because they're so alike. But I get a hold of myself. "He isn't nearly as grim and dark as you make him out to be. You know he read Alice in Wonderland to me last night? And then carried me to bed?"

"Father has a soft spot for young children. I blame his fawning of my predecessors for his propensity to become a nanny instead of a warrior when behind closed doors." Damian says with much less disgust than I thought he would have following a statement like that. I see an opening in the armour.

I shake my head. "No, he was just acting like a normal human being. He's really good at being a dad. I know he cuddles you and reads you poetry. Don't you like him doing that?"

He scoffs. "I tolerate such behaviour because he is my father and I respect him too much to say otherwise."

I'm not buying it. Not for a second. I finally sit up before replying. "Seriously? You 'tolerate' your dad loving you like a son? No way. You love him back. I can see it in your eyes. I don't why you're so ashamed of admitting it."

Damian looks a little wistful – thanks again, Mom. He sighs. "My father is...not as invulnerable as yours. A good way of protecting those you love is to push them away. That way, your enemies do not see the relationship as a weak point to be exploited."

"That's pretty sad. I think you should hug your dad, like I do with mine. They appreciate it, you know."

"Maybe from a ten-year-old, but I am a teenager. I am expected to be independent and more adult in my approach..."

"Not where hugging is concerned. I'd hug your dad, if it didn't make me feel like a traitor."

This makes him smile in the usual way. I guess he thinks I've just admitted his dad's superiority to mine. He leans ever so slightly towards me. "Is your father the jealous kind?" He asks.

"Not jealous, exactly, but he does get competitive with Bruce. It sounds crazy, but, sometimes I think he gets...intimidated by your dad. My dad's a smart man, but he isn't a genius. Yours is."

"I know. I am fortunate to have his genes since I share his intellect. Your father may be mentally inferior to mine, but he does compensate by being Superman. It is hardly to his detriment."

"That almost sounds like a compliment. Thank you. Plus, my dad's genes make me much taller than you, so that's..."

"Shut up and come downstairs. We are having breakfast. You are invited. It does not happen often."

"Can I fly you downstairs? Save your ribs a little?" I ask, throwing back the covers and hovering just above the bed with my arms outstretched. For once, I don't get the coldest shoulder in the solar system. I just get a genuine smile.

"I... would like that, Superboy." He says before letting me scoop him up. I'm already loving this change-up between us.

"No problem, Robin. Let's go eat!"


End file.
